


Like A Broken Record

by Morrigan_RedBlack



Category: Professional Wrestling, WWE
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-28
Updated: 2013-08-28
Packaged: 2017-12-24 15:08:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/941408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morrigan_RedBlack/pseuds/Morrigan_RedBlack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Come take a walk on the wild side, let me kiss you hard in the pouring rain"- Lana Del Rey "Born to Die"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like A Broken Record

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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_**Like A Broken Record** _

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**_ **Disclaimers: This is a _purely fictional work._ All the characters mentioned and used belong to themselves and the WWE. I don't own anything. Song lyrics  belong to the respective owners.  
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**Warnings: Explicit and implied m/m relationships, angst, m/m sexual relations, language, mentions of alcohol, implied suicide and major character death.  
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**Characters: HHH/Taker.  
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**Summary: Set in AU. _"Come take a walk on the wild side, let me kiss you hard in the pouring rain"_ \- Lana Del Rey _"Born to Die"_  
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_The door to the the cloudy, smoky bar opened with a barely heard grunt; lost in the spectrum of noises and the loud rock music blaring through the jukebox, located in the far corner of the bar where the pool tables stood. A couple of men already occupied the pool; some were grumbling and swearing as they threw dollar bills on the green surface. The rest  downed swigs of beer in glee of making couple of green wads out of unsuspecting jerk offs. But as the tall red head walked through, he barely acknowledged the scene; just walked straight to the bar, pulled out a stool, made his order to the fine young thing behind the counter of the bar and made himself home. He is not the guy to make a scene or an entrance; he's always quiet and calculated. Those are the traits are refined by his means of green bills, but years of taking heads off by a sniper had made Mark Callaway quite a man of mystery, a man who _killed_ more than he spoke.

      

        He stared at his gloved hands as he waited for his order and he can't help but wonder when will someone else will put an end to him. It is a thought that would have scared an ordinary man, but not Mark. Not when he had spent most of his 45 years working for the big guns in the underworld, the dark savage garden beneath the busy tunnels of New York City. He knew every damned politician, mayor and souped- up Wall Streets hounds who got some dirty laundry to shove up their closets; they came to him, say the name, set a price and he gets the job done. Simple yet deadly. But he also knows that some other guys would probably want to do the same thing to him, probably out of mistaken association, or just a warning; some shit like that. He didn't care, but he knew it ain't gonna hurt if he kept a low profile.

          

     _**" Brooding is not one of the majority hobbies in a bar,hun. Especially when you got someone like me to kill time with",.** _ Mark smirked as he looked up from his hands to stare into the sparkling eyes of one Hunter Hearst Hemsley, who grinned mischievously back at him. _**" How do you suppose we kill time, Darlin'?"** _ he drawled back, tucking the escaped blond strands behind Hunter's ears; a gesture that caused a light tremor to run through the younger's man's body. Mark's grin grew wider, almost evil. Hunter blinked slowly as he grinned back like a cat, didn't answer the other man's question, but just leaned in and licked the lips of the man; taste of tobacco hitting his tongue as he teased. He pulled back when Mark growled; _ **" Come take a walk in the wild side, let me kiss you hard in the pouring rain",** _ he whispered into the red head's ear.

           

      The rest of the evening when in a blur of time and space as Mark nursed his beer and enjoyed the sight of Hunt working ( or rather flirting with the guys). The blond is a fine piece of eye candy and sex on legs. He is the only guy he enjoyed fucking; raw and boundless. And he knows that Hunt sees it the same way he does too, if not a little bit more persistent. Their relationship is not one of love; just two men with mutual benefits. As he watched, Mark finished the last of his beer and left quietly as he could, into the still moonless night.

 

            It was almost two in the morning when Hunter finally finished. Tired and exhausted, he clambered the last of the bills into the cashier drawer, hit the lights off and closed the bar. As he stepped outside, he shivered when he felt the cold air hit his skin. Shaking his head, he walked past the bar into the alleyway that lead to his one bedroom apartment on opposite of the road. Once he reached the his apartment, he fumbled the keys into the knob; almost triumphant in opening the door when he felt someone pick him up and pressed him hard against the wall; plundering his mouth in a brutal kiss. Hunter melted immediately, his brain going into automatic shutdown. Feelings of lust and arousal swimmed through his veins as he responded with equal  ferocity causing Mark to growl warningly. _Serves you right you little fucking tease._ The blonde wrapped his legs around Mark's waist; pressing their bulges together as he broke the kiss with a gasp.

 

          Their movements became a blur of colours as they collapsed together on the Hunter's bed; still kissing and caressing each other's skin. Mark pulled back the writhing blond's head, almost painfully as he nipped at the cords and tendons of Hunt's neck, grinning wildly as he heard the blond cry out in pure unadulterated pleasure. Not wanting to give in that easily, Hunter used his own strength and flipped back the larger man to his back. " My turn" he whispered breezily as he captured the redhead's lips in another fierce kiss. Tongues dueled and danced in a frenzied steps of their own; something they both had known like a second nature to each other. Hunt explored his mouth towards the bottom, heading south. On his way, nipping the skin as he went, he laved the nipples and the taut muscle of the older man's abs; tracing the tattoo with the stiffened tip of his tongue. He heard Mark growl again; he looked up and smiled an innocent look before reaching down and swallowing his cock in one wicked scoop. He worked ruthlessly on the redhead's shaft, tips of tongue and teeth teasing the potruding veins as he tasted the pure masculine essence that's simply Mark. His ears perked up at the sound of heavy breathing as he sucked; pulling back when he sensed the man was right on the verge.

 

          It took a moment or two for Mark to clear the cobwebs of sexed pleasures from his head and when he did, he lifted his head to look down at the blond who smirked at him. He growled back in warning, and attempted to grab him; but was surprised when Hunter pinned both of his hands with above his head. Keeping them there with a steady grip, the blonde man, took a firm hold of the other's man cock, and sank down swiftly. Mark could only gape in shock at Hunt's sharp gasp of pain-pleasure ricocheting through the veins of the trembling man who almost instantly begin to rock his hips; slow and steady. As he rocked, Hunt leaned down and kissed Mark again, this time a more soft and wanton gesture. The redhead returned back, wrapping one arm around his waist and the other reaching down to slowly stroke and skim dripping cock pressed against his abs. He _tasted,_ rather than heard Hunter's delicious whines being captured in his own mouth and he knew(by hearing the jerky pants and breathy moans) that Hunt was almost _there._

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_         That was when the blonde let out a startled yelp as he was flipped on to his back; their frenzy of movements coming to an abrupt halt as Mark pinned him down. Hunter's confused, not to mention frustrated from being pulled away from a fucker of an orgasm, but as amber eyes stared into deep green, he felt something else. A kind of sadness, _a_ _longing_ seemed to swim in those often darkly hooded eyes. _What's wrong?_ The redhead stared a little bit longer, before leaning back down and kissing Hunt; gently this time as their hips resume back to thrusting and grinding; this time not with the bruising force that usually makes up half of their fucking. And when they came, its not a total eruption to madness, rather a gentle wave of pleasure washing them in final bliss of ecstacy. _Like a long sigh._   A little more harsh breathing and few sighs, and Mark gently pulled himself out and flopped next to the trembling blonde, who instinctively reached over to bury his head in between the crevice of the older man's shoulder. Neither spoke; the air was heavy with sorrow, of _why or what_ , they both didn't really know, but they felt it. _Just felt it._

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         Hunter awoke to an empty bed; he's not suprised at all. It was common for Mark to leave early like that. Without a word or goodbye. He stretched some of his muscles; out of tiredness and pleasant liquid feeling in his flesh. The thought of it brought a frown to his face; last night was very unusual for both of them. _It can't be that right? He can't give up like that, no? No way._ Shaking his head, he got up from the bed to face the day and run his usual routine. All the while waiting for another fine day when the mysterious and dangerous man will come see him again.

  
       But he never came. Despite the fact that this time maybe one of those situations where things are a wee bit more difficult than usual, and that, meant Mark had to stay low a bit longer, Hunter can't help to entertain the drought in his stomach. The same heavy feel that he sensed when the last time he was with this man, and what he felt again in the morning after. Something's really bad went down in the docks.

             **_/ They shot the whole gang down./_**

**_/ Nobody made it./_ **

**_/ They blew the cartel deal./_ **

  
          All this rumours were doing nothing but fueling his dread even more. _Shut up! Just shut the fuck up!_ He wanted to scream out loud. Those damned rumours were playing like a broken record in his head, and as much he wants to deny it, Hunter isn't stupid. _No_. He knew what went down in the docks, who's wasted and who screwed who. After all he owned the bar which is like a home to all of the top wanted gangsters in New York City. And as the dumb boulder head confirmed over and over again to another overly enthusiastic jacked kid ( and Hunter listened) in the bar the other day, its the fucking truth. He's never coming back. _Mark Callaway is dead._

        Months went by, and Hunter tried to deal with it but the harder he tried, the more it backfired at him. Everything reminded him of the other man. The smell of the sheets, stacks of Southern Comfort arranged in neat rows in the back of the counter top in his bar, the stupid Johny Cash songs that he hated so much ( but Mark loved 'em), dirts, skin, worn-out jeans and everything. _Just like that._ He can't even look at his own reflection without wanting to punch that glass until his knuckles bleed and bones shatter. Hunter barely talked to anyone; and yet no one seem to notice. _He didn't care anyway._

       It was a rainy Sunday afternoon when Hunter stared at the gloves that Mark left behind on bedside table before for the last time. He reached over, put them on his own palms and were suprised lightly at how they fit them perfectly. _Just like how their hands would. Entertwine like a set of complicated vines._ He didn't cry, because he felt empty. He cannot cry, cause' he'd been sobbing forever; alone every night for the last six damned months of his life. He stared at his hands longer, as he laid back down on the edge of the bed, and watched the open gaping slit across his wrist spew drop after drop of blood. They made quite a pool of dark lake beneath the bed, resonating in almost perfect half circle. He smiled sardonically as he fought to keep his dropping eyelids open. He then finally relented. _**" I am sleepy"**_ , he said, to no one in particular. He became slightly drowsy and  more tired, as he thought he heard the door open; someone calling his name.

  
        And then there was nothing.

 

_**" Come take a walk in the wild side;** _

_**Let me kiss you hard in the pouring rain;** _

_**You like your (boys) insane,** _

_**Choose your last words; this is the last time,** _

_**'Cause you and I....** _

_**We' re born to die..." - Lana Del Rey " Born to Die"** _

 

     

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**Author's Note:**

> To a friend who is dedicated to make this slashy pair worth of read as much as I am, actually more than I am. Hope you enjoy this. Reviews are welcome.


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